


First Base

by Tough_Girl



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Romance, French Kissing, Kissing, Making Out, Neck Kissing, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 13:52:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30073227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tough_Girl/pseuds/Tough_Girl
Summary: Data is curious about whether you'd like to join him in exploring what humans call "making out." Very possibly the first part in a series.
Relationships: Data (Star Trek)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	First Base

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a Character/Reader fic, and basically this was an exercise in pure self indulgence. It ended up not even going the direction I had originally intended, so it very likely may be followed by a sequel or two. As I am very new to writing anything of this nature, feedback is greatly appreciated. At least I had fun imagining this moment with a cute android :)

_“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways._   
_I love thee to the depth and breadth and height_   
_My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight_   
_For the ends of being and ideal grace.”_

Data’s voice is pure honey – honey and silk. His voice is always soft, but you didn’t know it could be so absolutely _sensuous_. You close your eyes and feel that luxuriously velvet timbre of his voice all around you.

The two of you are in his quarters, sitting side-by-side on his couch as he reads you love poems that he has downloaded to his databanks just for you. There are poems from every era and planet: Human, Vulcan, Klingon, Betazoid, and other cultures you haven’t even heard of before. You marvel at the universality of this experience of love, this experience that you are sharing now with the handsome android beside you.

Spot is curled up contentedly in your lap, a rumbling ball of fur pressed against your stomach that you absently stroke with one hand. Your head rests on Data’s shoulder, the fabric of his uniform soft under your cheek. One of his arms encircles your shoulders, while the fingers of his other hand are twined casually yet intimately with yours.

At first, Data’s attempts to romance you were stilted and awkward (though still adorable) based on a saved template for a romantic subroutine from a previous relationship. It took several insistent reassurances from you that you didn’t want a Casanova or a Romeo, that you just wanted _him_ , just wanted _Data_ , before he started adjusting the subroutine so that it didn’t drown out his true personality, but merely enhanced his already romantic qualities.

_“I love thee to the level of every day’s_   
_Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light._   
_I love thee freely, as men strive for right._   
_I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.”_

You snuggle closer against him, your body warm and relaxed. Data’s body is warm too, pleasantly so, and your form melts against his like butter.

You can hardly believe it was only four days ago that Data showed up unexpectedly at your quarters, carrying a bouquet of Andorian sweet roses and inquiring whether you would like to attend that evening’s string quartet concert in Ten Forward with him “in an exploratory trial to assess our romantic compatibility.”

Of course, you said yes.

You’d had a crush on him for months at that point, stemming from that one time when he’d found you crying alone in Ten Forward and invited you over to his quarters to pet Spot, because he’d read that holding a purring cat had therapeutic and comforting properties for humans. You’d always found him physically attractive, but that was when you first realized what a gentle, sweet, and caring, even loving, man he also was.

You hadn’t bothered to act on your crush and never intended to do so, assuming that Data could not return your interest. You also knew that he has a tendency to go along with what other people want of him, and you didn’t want to rope him into a relationship that he didn’t want as much as you did. So your surprise and delight when Data initiated of his own accord had brought you to giddy tears that you’d had to explain to him were very much not a negative response to his proposition.

_“I love thee with the passion put to use_   
_In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith._   
_I love thee with a love I seemed to lose_   
_With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,_   
_Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,_   
_I shall but love thee better after death.”_

You turn your head just slightly and nuzzle at the crook of his neck, squeezing his hand a little tighter as you do so. Your nose brushes against the cold metal of his officer pips and you tip your head a little further back to slowly kiss each of the three pips in turn. Then you pause. Draw in a breath through your nose.

Data’s bioplast skin is naturally odorless, you’ve noticed, but when you tilt your head up against his neck, you catch a whiff of something sweet and heady, like spiced vanilla. You breath it in once again, twisting your body so that you can lean in better, your hand straying from Spot’s head to Data’s stomach.

“Data, are you wearing cologne?” you ask with a small smile, your face practically buried against his neck.

He shifts, his hand sliding down your shoulder and if you’re not mistaken, his tone is pleased. “Since the initiation of our relationship four days ago, I have researched numerous different methods for enhancing the romantic experience. In particular, I spent a good portion of last night reviewing all my files on aphrodisiacs and their various effects on a lover. Given that the human sense of smell is intimately connected to the parts of the brain dealing with emotion and memory, olfactory aphrodisiacs can be a particularly simple yet effective way of enriching amorous moments. According to the research I conducted, the scent of vanilla is historically one of the most popular olfactory aphrodisiacs for affecting human women.” He paused before asking seriously, “Are you finding your romantic experience enhanced?”

You can’t help but grin. You love the eagerness in his voice when he gushes about the things he has been researching. Data may not be able to feel love the way you feel it, but you know that this form of android affection – staying up all night researching ways to “enhance your romantic experience” with him – is every bit as much love as the warm sensation you feel swelling up from your lower belly at his question.

You feel yourself blushing slightly and the tips of your fingers tingle. “Yes, Data, I am feeling romantically enhanced.”

You don’t have to look at him to tell that the corners of his mouth have lifted into the adorable, little smile that means he has been successful at one of his endeavors. “I will continue to incorporate olfactory stimulants into our time together. If you wish, we may experiment to find which aphrodisiacs you find particularly pleasing.”

You lean back so that you are able to look into his face. You’re right: he’s smiling, and his gentle, golden eyes are full of pleased curiosity. He’s so eager to learn about you, to learn about romance with you.

There’s also something else in his expression. He’s watching you with that keenness that means he’s calculating your response or looking for some specific cue from you. You raise your eyebrows slightly at him. “What is it, Data?”

He tilts his head, still watching you closely. “We have been a couple now for four days. So far, we have been on three dates, held hands for an accumulated nine hours, twelve minutes, cuddled for three hours, thirty-five minutes, and kissed eleven times. Based on your reactions to all these activities, I hypothesize that you are both emotionally and physically attracted to me. If this assumption is correct, I am curious as to whether you would like to explore a more intimate form of romantic activity with me.”

Your blush is neither slight nor subtle any longer. “What…what do you have in mind?”

Data purses his lips slightly and no doubt a million minor operations happen throughout his neural net, but his gaze is steady and calm as ever. “I am curious whether you would like to engage in what, in human parlance, would be referred to as ‘making out’?”

You bite your lip, your chest suddenly tight and hot as a shiver of anticipation that you can’t quite control makes its way through you. You’d be lying if you told yourself that you hadn’t thought about a thorough make-out session with your android boyfriend once or twice (all right, ten or twenty) times over the last few days. The gentle, chaste kisses that Data has pressed against your lips up until now are sweet and lovely, but the thought of something a little more… _passionate_ …makes your heart start pounding, and you suspect Data knows.

But you also know that Data is programmed to be caring and attentive to human needs, sometimes even at the cost of his own preferences. You lift your hand from his stomach and carefully stroke your fingers over his pips. “Data, what do you want?” you ask softly.

He tilts his head to the side, the movement quicker and more precise than a human. “I am sorry, I do not understand what you mean?”

“You told me that you don’t experience sexual desire of any kind,” you elaborate. “Do you want to make out with me, or are you offering simply because you think it’s what I want?”

“Ah.” His eyebrows lift slightly. “I understand. You are concerned that the experience will not be gratifying in any way to me.”

“Pretty much,” you concede with a tiny shrug.

He frowns thoughtfully. “While it is true that sexual gratification in the traditional sense is not part of the equation for me, it would be incorrect to state that I would ‘get nothing’ from the experience. For example, though my positronic brain is not designed to process the sensations of physical pleasure or pain, I do have a complex net of sensors that allow me to process many other sensations, such as the temperature, texture, and composition of objects with which I come in contact. When many of my sensors are stimulated at once, particularly in novel ways, it provides a flood of feedback for my positronic brain to analyze, which in a way, is pleasurable for me.

“Moreover, my quest to understand and emulate the human condition to whatever degree possible makes experiences themselves highly valuable to me. Dr. Soong clearly intended for me to take part in, and perhaps even enjoy, romantic and sexual activity, and I am curious to explore that part of my programming with you. Not only that, but the sensory input of those who are closer and more familiar to me is, in a way, more important, more _special_ , than that of those whose input I do not encounter as regularly. To put it in more human terms, the fact that it is you with whom I get to share such an experience would in and of itself make the experience more significant, more _pleasurable_ , for me. Does this alleviate your concerns?”

To hear such a sweet sentiment from him almost brings tears to your eyes, and a wave of affection for your charming android sweeps through you. You lift a trembling hand to his cheek and stroke his smooth skin. “I understand, Data, and yes, I’d very much like to make out with you.”

You both shift to face each other on the couch. Spot makes a huffing sound and jumps down from your lap when you move, clearly dissatisfied with the stability of her napping perch, but your attention is focused on your boyfriend’s alabaster-pale face. You can see anticipation in his eyes, curiosity and wonder that makes your pulse race, because you know _you_ are the one causing it. He makes a sharp, little movement with his head that you recognize as the activation of some internal function, and when he looks back at you, there is a slight change in his gaze, something sensual mingled with the curiosity. You realize he must have activated part of his sexuality programming.

He releases your hand, but only to reposition it tenderly against your lower back, tugging you slightly forward, and you do not resist his gentle pull. Your hand remains on his cheek as he draws you forward and leans in simultaneously until his lips brush against yours.

The kiss is gentle, just like the other kisses he has given you before now and you respond in like, content for now to let him lead at the pace he desires. His bow-shaped lips are as soft and warm as a human’s, and you let the feel of them fill your world. You sense yourself relaxing, every muscle pliant in the safety of Data’s embrace.

After twenty seconds or so, his lips press more insistently against yours, and his hand at your lower back begins to move, straying slowly up your spine, his long, slender fingers dancing in a mesmerizing pattern of small, pleasing circles. Even through the soft fabric of your shirt, the sensation is exquisite. You cup his face and kiss him back harder, and the increased pressure sends jolts of pleasure racing through your lower belly.

His lips part then, and he’s pressing against you harder, his chest to yours now, his hand still dancing gracefully against your back, his other arm around your shoulders, hugging you close. You slip your free arm through the loop of his and around his middle, holding yourself to him. You part your lips as well, both an invitation and a plea to your android, and he is almost immediate in his response.

His tongue glides over your lower lip, testing, exploring, and you can feel his intrigued curiosity in the movement. It’s the smallest little brush, but it feels like prickling electricity to you, rippling outward and making you hunger for more. You let your own tongue brush over his soft curve of his mouth, then nip gently at his lip, hoping he understands what you want but willing to guide him if he’s slow on the uptake.

There was no need to doubt him. He tugs you even closer to himself and opens his mouth against yours, and the next thing you know his tongue is exploring your lips, your mouth, your own tongue. His mouth is as warm and wet as a human’s, and once again you’re amazed by the level of human detail that Data’s creator endowed him with. You moan softly into his mouth as his tongue twines with yours in an especially delicious manner, and silently, you thank Dr. Noonian Soong for programming Data with this particular skill set.

You slip your hand around the back of his head, sifting your fingers through his dark, silky hair, then clutching a handful and pressing him to you. You give as good as you get, letting your android know just how enthusiastic you are about this experience, about _him_. God, if you aren’t the luckiest sentient in the entire galaxy, you think as his tongue thrusts deeper and his lips caress yours until they feel like they are burning.

His hands glide up and down your back, still gentle, but more confident now. Up all the way to your shoulders his fingers slip, then running back down your sides to your hips, which he squeezes fondly, before trailing his hands up your back again. Then he alternates, one hand running up, the other running down, his fingers digging into your shirt fabric and leaving burning, tingling trails of pleasure all along your body.

“Data,” you gasp against his cheek as you turn your head to take a breath, your fingers still twined deep in his silken hair. You expect him to recapture your mouth, but instead he begins to leave a trail of fervent kisses along your cheek, your jaw, your throat. Instinctively, you arch your neck for him, and he kisses the hollow of your throat so tenderly that it makes your heart feel like bursting. “Oh, Data,” you moan again, only a little self-conscious of just how needy you sound. You’ve been touch-starved for a while, and being held and touched like this is exquisite, especially when it is your dear Data doing the touching. And you know he understands yearning, need, longing, even if he does not feel it exactly as you do. You know he understands it better than he allows himself to believe.

You smell the vanilla cologne on him once again, and yes, it definitely is romantically enhancing. The scent is almost as sweet as the kisses he’s now pressing to the crook of your neck and your shoulder. You dig your fingers down into his hair even deeper, your other hand still clutching at his lower back.

You toy with the bottom hem of his uniform shirt, your fingertips tingling. Slowly, you slide your fingers down and under the black fabric. You feel the waistband of his uniform pants and explore upward, pushing the fabric of his shirt up with the back of your hand. A thrill races through you as you find skin and press your fingertips to his exposed lower back. If you didn’t already know, there’d be no telltale signs that you are touching synthetic bioplast rather than human flesh, except perhaps for how completely smooth he is. You know he has the ability to control his follicle growth, and with a bit of a flush creeping into your cheeks, you wonder if his entire body is this smooth and hairless.

That train of thought leads you to the realization that you’ve never seen him out of his uniform, and you realize you wouldn’t mind seeing him with a little bit less on. You begin to slowly hike his shirt further up, over his stomach, over the middle of his back, giving him plenty of time to stop you if he wants.

He makes no move to stop you however. Instead, his mouth presses hard against yours once again, drawing out another short gasp from you. And this time he’s not holding back. Whether it’s part of his programming or whether he’s gaining confidence in his own android way, this kiss is absolutely nothing short of passionate, and it wakes up every sleeping ember of fire in your veins. Yes, Data’s uniform very definitely needs to come off.

At that very moment, however, a loud chirp sounds from Data’s coffee table. Your brain is so fuzzy with happy pleasure and desire that you don’t register what it is at first, but Data does and immediately responds. You whine slightly as he pulls his mouth away from yours, untangling himself to reach over for his commbadge, which he had set aside at the beginning of the night. He gives you an apologetic look as he presses the badge. “Data here,” he says, his voice completely calm and collected, as if his tongue hadn’t been half-way down your throat mere seconds ago.

“Mr. Data.” It’s Commander Riker’s voice. “I’m very sorry for disturbing you during your free time, but sensors are picking up some anomalous readings from the nebula, and we’d like your analysis of any danger before we proceed. Please report to the Bridge as soon as you can.”

“Understood, Commander,” Data responds. “I will be there in a few minutes. Data out.”

He presses the commbadge again, hesitates, then pins it back to the front of his uniform. His usually crisp shirt is still hiked up over his belly, and several curls of hair hang loose over his face from where your fingers were carding through them. You might almost call the expression on his face regretful as he tugs his shirt back down and reaches up to smooth the unruly curls back into their place. He looks at you then with eyes full of gentleness and that hint of maybe-regret. “I am sorry, Y/N. I am needed on the Bridge.”

You stand with him and gently smooth out a wrinkle in the front of his uniform. “I understand, Data.”

He turns to head for his door, then pauses and looks back at you. He lifts a hand and strokes your cheek tenderly, his eyes soft, almost coy. “Perhaps if you found our activities of this evening pleasing-”

You kiss him, hard, insistent, letting him know exactly how you feel about him. When you pull away, you take his hand from your cheek and squeeze it. “Yes, I’d very much like to continue at a later time.”

The corners of his lips perk up and his eyes brighten. “I would like that as well, Y/N.”

You give him a little push. “Now go on, make sure the ship isn’t about to blow up.”

“I believe that may be an exaggeration of the danger, considering the Captain has not ordered a red alert and I am sure Commander Riker would have displayed more concern were that the case.”

You can’t help but grin. “I love you, you know that, Data?”

His eyebrows rise and you can tell he’s confused about your seeming non-sequitur. He opens his mouth, then seems to realize he still hasn’t made it to the door. He closes his mouth and nods solemnly. “I am aware of your genuine affection for me.” He tilts his head to the side and his brows crease thoughtfully. “I hope one day, I am able to feel the same for you.”

You know he already does and you fully plan to one day help him see it, but he’s still the second officer of the Starfleet flagship as much as he is your boyfriend, and right now he has to perform the role of the former.

The door hisses shut, and you are left alone with Spot who rubs up against your leg, the lingering scent of vanilla, and the ghost of an android kiss on your lips.

**Author's Note:**

> The poem Data is reading at the beginning of the story is "How Do I Love Thee?" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.


End file.
